


don't leave me hanging like the mona lisa

by cabooseachievables



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, also the bal sideplot doesn't have a happy ending u have been warned, this is almost 13k words of umvie flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabooseachievables/pseuds/cabooseachievables
Summary: Mal is becoming a popular artist in Auradon now, which means she's invited to a lot of fancy events hosted by people she hardly knows. Uma couldn't care less about them to be honest with you, even though she tries to support her best friend.But then she sees fashion designer Evie Grimhilde at one of said events and, well— now she's interested.





	don't leave me hanging like the mona lisa

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a LONG time since I've posted something for Descendants so here I am, I'm back, and this time I'm giving y'all a rarepair. I'm rusty when it comes to writing so if this is bad I apologize to the, like, 3 other Umvie stans in this fandom. 
> 
> Anyways, the title is from Mona Lisa by Sabrina Carpenter and the entire fic is loosely based off of the lyrics. I hope you guys enjoy this! Feel free to talk to me about what you think. And if you like Uma/Evie please... I beg of you... come share your ideas lmao.

 

Usually, Uma doesn’t bother with these big fancy events that Mal gets roped into every other week.

 

Now that Mal is creating a bigger name for herself as an artist, there are always showcases and exhibits and whatever-other-fancy-words-you-wanna-use events with local or famous artists. They’re always too much for Uma yet somehow boring as hell at the same time, so she tries to avoid them as much as possible. But tonight’s big event is kind of a big deal to Mal because it’s an entire art showcase just for _her_ , and she’s been uncharacteristically nervous about it for the past week. A lot of people have been honoring Mal with the title of Auradon’s “biggest upcoming artist” and it’s put her in the spotlight quite a bit lately— a position Mal does not function well in. Not alone at least.

 

And as her best friend, Uma knows she should be there to offer support. (Even though she’s not entirely sure how to show support at an art gallery? What’s she supposed to do, applaud loudly at every single piece on display? She’ll figure that out later.)

 

That being said, Uma isn’t really sure what to expect from tonight. She only went to one exhibit with Mal a few months ago because Mal absolutely needed a ride and roughly thirty minutes into it Uma snuck out to take a nap in the backseat of her car. They’re almost always formal, which means suits and dresses for everyone _but_ Uma because fuck that and fuck what people expect from her. A lot of socializing goes on too, which is a good thing for Mal and her art career now that it’s finally taking off in the right direction, but talking to a bunch of stuck up art critics and rich people looking to buy new pieces to hang in one of their seventeen bedrooms sounds as tolerable to Uma as listening to nails on a chalkboard. Or a Post Malone album. She shudders at that thought.

 

So Uma goes into this figuring that it’s going to be a very interesting night. (And, well, she’s not wrong.)

 

They get to the venue half an hour early so that Mal can take a look around and make sure everything is set up correctly, which consists of Mal repeatedly nodding her head and agreeing to whatever the gallery staff suggests because to be honest she’s kind of freaking out— not that you can prove it— and couldn't care less about decisions like where the refreshments table should be. Uma doesn’t care much either and spends her time scrolling through Twitter instead of participating.

 

Most visitors begin to arrive closer to the actual event start time. Masses of people in suits and dresses with expensive looking jewelry hanging off of their necks or diamonds glimmering on their fingers file in behind each other. The atmosphere elevates to one of luxury real quick, but Uma is perfectly comfortable lounging around in her favorite dark teal leather jacket. If anyone asks why she isn’t dressed up— one: they can mind their own business, and two: she can use the excuse of uniqueness. Individuality. That’s what the art scene is all about, right? She doesn’t really know.

 

It isn’t long before the socializing gets into full swing; the front room occupied by rich people chatting with each other. And then of course there’s Uma, sipping water from a plastic cup and following Mal as she walks around.

 

“Who are most of these people again?” Uma whispers to her as they squeeze past a group of men in suits who are discussing a painting on the wall. The smell of too much cologne overwhelms her senses to the point where she wants to gag, wondering why the hell someone would need that much spray on their body for any reason other than making those around them suffer.

 

“Honestly? I have no idea. But they’re probably important,” Mal whispers back.

 

They end up standing by one of Mal’s most recent works in the corner, a large painting of her mother that isn’t for sale, not tonight, and watch as people admire some of the other pieces. Mal still looks like she’s having trouble processing that this is all for her and that somehow she’s made it this far. Not too long ago she was struggling to even get her name out there as an artist, yet now there’s maybe hundreds of people recognizing the name _Mal_ as one of Auradon’s best.

 

“So. How does it feel?” Uma prompts, nudging her best friend as she wiggles her eyebrows a bit. “Look at you, you’re all famous now.”

 

“Shut up, I am not.” Mal shakes her head. “But it’s kind of insane.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

Everyone in the room begins to murmur a tad more than usual, a commotion generating as someone new makes an entrance. The chorus of awe and fascination grabs Uma’s attention, and it doesn’t take long for her to discover that all heads have turned to observe whoever the girl is that just walked in.

 

And yeah, okay, this is a formal event and everyone is dressed up, but this girl looks _stunning_. You’d think she was a princess if you didn’t know any better. Her long, royal blue dress with gold trimmings looks so perfectly intricate and unique; brown hair falls in waves over one shoulder and her makeup is gorgeous even from across the room, so much so that Uma can’t help but ask—

 

“Who is that?”

 

Mal doesn’t look too incredibly fazed, taking another sip from her water. “That’s Evie Grimhilde. She’s a really popular fashion designer around here.” Uma can’t tear her eyes away from the girl, even as she moves through the crowds of people to go talk to some familiar faces. Evie Grimhilde.

 

“Does she always look…”

 

“Like _that_? Yeah. No idea how she does it,” Mal chuckles. “I’ve never talked to her, though. She’s always surrounded by people.”

 

It’s no wonder why, not when she might literally be the most beautiful woman Uma has ever seen in her life.

 

They forget about Evie fairly quickly, though, when Mal gets a phone call from her mom. Even though Uma can’t hear what it is that Maleficent is telling her daughter, she can tell that she’s being her typical embarrassing mother self by the way Mal says things like _yes mom, no I’m not selling the one of you,_ and _mom you can’t pay that much money for it I literally made it for you_. This continues for a few minutes as Mal insists that she has to go and take care of some things, and some reluctance from her mother who doesn’t want to hang up yet because it’s rude to hang up on your mother like that, until eventually Mal gets the opportunity to hang up. Uma laughs about it for a while, and the two of them go back to awkwardly standing in their corner.

 

The sound of approaching heels against the wooden floor alerts Mal first when Uma is too busy looking at her phone, and before Uma can realize what’s going on there’s someone standing next to her.

 

“Hi, you’re Mal, right?” The voice says, immediately attracting Uma’s attention by the sound of it as she glances up and finds Evie Grimhilde one foot away from her. Mal looks surprised at the sight of Evie too. “I’m Evie. I think I’ve seen you around before, but I’ve never been able to tell you that I love your work.”

 

“Oh,” Mal starts and for a long moment she takes in the words, and Uma is pretty sure they both look like dumbasses right now. “Wow, thanks. I didn’t think you would? Some of my stuff is kind of… dark.”

 

Evie laughs a little at that. “Dark but beautiful. I have to say, I’m a fan.”

 

Mal looks genuinely surprised but flattered by the compliment. She also doesn’t really know how to respond to that. “Thanks. Uh, well yeah, I’m Mal. This is my best friend, Uma.”

 

Evie turns to her then, as if she knew the girl was there previously but didn’t _really_ get a good look at her until now, and gives Uma a very generous onceover before smiling. (Is she judging the outfit or checking her out? Uma can’t tell.) With a playful tilt of her head and curiosity in her eyes, Evie holds out a hand and says, “Evie.”

 

It isn’t until then that Uma realizes that she’s been staring at Evie ever since she walked over here, and Evie is looking at her as if she’s aware of that fact, so Uma clears her throat to recollect herself. “Uma,” she replies, accepting the offer for a handshake.

 

“You know I said that already, right?” Mal comments.

 

Uma elbows her in the side, which elicits a quiet _ow_ from Mal. “Shut up, I was just being polite.”

 

The sound of Evie giggling at the exchange is enough to show that at the very least she’s entertained by their bickering. Most people get annoyed or call it “unprofessional,” but who cares anyway? They don’t know how to have fun, especially not in a city like Auradon. Mal, Uma and their closest friends, Jay and Harry, tend to stand out amongst the people of Auradon; a place where locals try to be proper and conform to ordinary standards. Why they still live here is an excellent question, but both Mal and Uma know that deep down they actually kind of like this city. Flaws, snobby people and all.

 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some other people to talk to. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mal. I love the work,” Evie says with a soft smile. Then her gaze shifts to Uma again and the glint in her eyes is a swift change from only a moment ago. There’s a pull between them, magnetic almost, that Uma could guarantee she isn’t alone in feeling. “And it was a pleasure meeting you too, Uma.” Evie exits the conversation with that, leaving both girls where she found them now completely dumbfounded.

 

“Dude, Evie Grimhilde is a fan of my work?” Mal murmurs, still stunned by the interaction that just occurred. Uma watches as the girl disappears into the crowd with her royal blue dress and beautiful everything and almost wishes Evie would come back and take Uma along with her.

 

“I think _I’m_ a fan of Evie Grimhilde.”

 

Mal gives Uma an odd look, as if she’s about to say something like _you don’t even care about fashion_ or _did you hit your head?_ but she doesn’t, simply accepting the comment and nodding. Then she glances at her phone and catches the time, hit by a realization that there is still much more left to do tonight besides standing around fawning (or in Uma’s case practically drooling) over Evie.

 

“Come on, I think they're about to start auctioning.”

 

The rest of the night goes well and Mal actually makes a ton of money off of some of her works that were on sale. It’s a huge deal for her— and for Uma too of course, who was in the back of the room shouting _that’s my best friend!_ every five minutes to make up for the fact that she had no money.

 

Uma spots Evie every now and then across the room, and as Mal mentioned previously she’s always surrounded by people, but she always manages to catch Evie’s eyes. They’re very brief glances that they both share, no words or gestures. In fact to anyone else they probably wouldn’t mean anything at all. But Uma is incredibly drawn to Evie Grimhilde in a way that she really wants to get more familiar with. All she has to do is find a way to get near her again.

 

Except towards the end of the night Uma is too busy helping Mal gather some of her things and the gallery is almost completely empty by the time they’re done. The two of them head home to their apartment which isn’t too far away (that’s the benefit of living where they do; it’s a small apartment that hardly fits two people, but the location is convenient) and Mal talks about how relieved she is that the showcase went as well as it did. Uma hypes her up a bit more about how famous she is now, making jokes whenever she can— but all Uma can think about after that is the color royal blue.

  


***

  


“Hey, you’ve got one of those fancy art gallery events on Saturday, right?” Uma asks a few mornings later over a bowl of cereal, watching a half asleep Mal walk around their kitchen to start making a bagel. Mal takes a minute to think about it, probably because neither of their brains work before 10AM most days.

 

They’re the perfect roommates, really, and part of that is because of how equally they enjoy solitude and sleeping in. Neither of them are very fond of messy households, although they aren’t the cleanest people in the world either. Maybe it’s due to how long they’ve known each other; they could have adopted each other’s traits over time and become similar people, or maybe their similarities are _why_ they’ve always been so close.

 

“Yeah,” she mumbles and pulls out the cream cheese from their fridge, “Ben is hosting and he invited me.”

 

“Cool. I’ll go with you.”

 

Mal stops opening her tub of cream cheese abruptly and stares at her in confusion. “I didn’t even invite you.”

 

“So?”

 

“So? You hate going to these things and you know it.”

 

“What can I say? I saw something at your showcase and I was… inspired,” Uma says dramatically, and she’s kind of hoping that Mal won’t ask any more questions because then she’ll have to explain that she’s spent the last few days looking into Evie Grimhilde and her reputation as a fashion designer. Instagram is a pretty good source and despite her lack of interest for the fashion itself, Uma gave Evie’s popular account a follow and prayed that it would go unnoticed. She’d rather die than have to explain any of that.

 

Maybe it’s too early in the morning or maybe Mal just doesn’t read too much into it; either way, she just shrugs and starts spreading cream cheese over her bagel. “It’s another formal event.”

 

Uma grins as she takes a sip of her orange juice. “So the usual leather jacket and jeans? Got it.”

 

“One of these days they’re gonna kick you out and I’ll laugh,” Mal chuckles a little.

 

“I’d like to see them try.”

 

They finish breakfast together while continuing to bicker about pointless things like they always do (why there were dirty dishes in the sink this morning, if Uma could stop blasting music before bed, more complaints about Mal wearing shoes around the house— the usual). It goes on for some time until Uma has to leave and get to work. Sure, her mom is her boss, but that doesn’t mean her mom would be chill with her showing up late for her shift at the restaurant. Uma would never test what would happen if she did clock in late. Not unless she has a death wish, at least.

  


***

  


Working at a seafood restaurant means two things: 1. _everything_ smells like fish _all_ the time and 2. Uma is sick of it.

 

There are so many things she’d rather be doing with her life than being a waitress at her mother’s restaurant, but she’s still in college and this is probably the best part-time job she’s gonna get in the meantime. All in all, it’s not the worst. It could be better, but at least she doesn’t constantly reek of shrimp like some of the kitchen staff. That, truly, would be the end of Uma’s social life as she knows it.

 

Her shifts usually aren’t all that exciting; how exciting can being a waitress at your mother’s seafood restaurant really be? Some old couple walks in for lunch, she leads them to a table, and then she’s back to standing around. Occasionally they’ll have big lunch and dinner rushes— they’re a fairly popular restaurant despite being a small local one— and Uma gets exhausted trying to keep up with it all.

 

Even as Uma is pulling into the restaurant's parking lot blasting a Saweetie song with her windows rolled down, she can tell today isn’t one of those hectic days. There are only two other cars parked outside, one of which being her mother’s minivan and the other belonging to one of their cooks. Not many people want seafood for lunch on a Tuesday, it seems.

 

Gil, one of the fellow waiters around her age, says hi as soon as she enters through the backdoor but Uma’s idiot tolerance feels a little low today so she keeps walking right past him. Her mother Ursula is in her office calculating this month’s finances, which means Uma absolutely should not interrupt her for the sake of not being scolded at this morning. Instead she pops her head in, offers a casual _“hey, mom”_ and figures they’ll talk later.

 

She was right about her initial judgement and it does end up being a slow day, so Uma hardly blinks an eye when the first customer of her shift walks through the front door an hour later. He’s a relatively short boy with curly hair and freckles, smiling awkwardly at her as she looks up at him from the video playing on her phone.

 

“Are you dining in with us today?” Uma asks routinely, fighting back a yawn.

 

He nods and replies, “Yeah. Oh and uh, table for two.” Then as if on cue, the door opens again and in comes a familiar face with familiar hair wearing a familiar color. Blue.

 

“Hey!” Evie exclaims, and it isn’t until she gets closer that Uma realizes she was greeting _her_ and not her male friend. The girl’s brown eyes are glimmering almost as much as the bracelets on her wrist and the gold amulet around her neck. Uma wonders if her eyes always look like that. “You were Mal’s friend at the gallery. Uma, right?”

 

Her friend whispers, “The artist Mal?” Evie nods.

 

“Yup, that’s me,” Uma replies, all the while attempting to present herself as cool and nonchalant. Well, she’s always cool, but there’s an odd feeling bubbling up in her chest. The fact that Evie even remembered her name is unbelievable; the girl is a fashion icon who meets tons of people every week and she remembered _Uma’s_ name? And could this feeling that Uma is experiencing be… giddiness? Oh no, we stomp that down around here.

 

That’s when Gil chooses this moment to approach with some menus and a typical-Gil goofy smile painted across his face. “Hey, Uma! Should I go take care of these new customers, or—?”

 

Quick to stop him, she says, “No, no, I got it. You... you take door duty.” Uma’s eyes never stray from Evie or her friend, as if they’d disappear if she looked away for a moment. That’s not a risk she wants to take.

 

Gil looks utterly surprised and honored at being given such a mundane role, cheering, “Sweet!”

 

It’s not Uma’s greatest idea ever, considering her mother usually prefers Gil _not_ to welcome new customers and seat them since he's not exactly the brightest and has the manners of a child, but that’s the last thing on her mind right now. And if her mother does find out she swapped places with Gil, what’s she gonna do? Fire Uma? Ha!

 

(Let’s hope Ursula never finds out.)

 

“Right this way,” Uma says in her most polite waitress voice, leading the two customers over towards an empty table with a window view. The view is of the parking lot, but… you know, whatever. Evie and her friend sit down across from each other before Uma hands them some menus and excuses herself to give them time to look over their options.

 

As Uma heads to the back she can’t help but think— what the fuck are the _odds_ ? There’s a plethora of restaurants scattered about Auradon, most of which with higher ratings on Yelp and more fitting atmospheres for a couple of fashion designers. But this is the one Evie comes to? Not to mention she has the _nerve_ to show up to a seafood restaurant looking that good? A nice, dark blue jacket that brings out her eyes and a skirt and heels? Who the hell does she think she is?

 

Well, that one’s easy. She’s Evie Grimhilde.

 

Uma returns to the table after a few minutes and doesn’t bother with the customer service voice that her mother urges all of the waiters to use on the job, instead pulling out her little notepad and getting straight to the point. “You guys ready to order?”

 

She tries not to look up at Evie when the girl says, “I think so. Carlos?”

 

_Carlos. Carlos?_ _Why does that sound familiar?_

 

The boy— Carlos— starts explaining what he wants and Uma nearly misses out on half of the description because she’s too busy thinking, but she thinks she manages to scribble it all down in the end. Then she makes her mistake of looking over at Evie, a green light to start reciting her order, and almost finds herself thrown off balance by the gravitational pull Evie has.

 

It’s fortunate that Evie has a small order, only asking for a large salad and water, because Uma is sure she wouldn’t have been able to focus for longer than twenty seconds otherwise. Evie smiles when she’s done speaking, bright enough to light up this poorly lit restaurant, which makes Uma’s mouth go dry and _seriously_ what is going on right now? Get a grip, Uma. You’re on the job.

 

With their orders more or less written down, Uma excuses herself again to take them back to the kitchen. If she’d been paying more attention, she’d have overheard Evie whispering something to Carlos as she left, but the words fly right past her. And for the next five minutes after handing the orders over to one of the chefs, Uma stays (or hides) in the back to get her shit together. For real, she’s going to end up embarrassing herself if she doesn’t.

 

Their drinks are ready to be taken out by the time Uma considers herself in the Safely Gay Zone, so she grabs them and goes back out to Evie’s table.

 

Carlos isn't in his seat, most likely in the bathroom, as it's just Evie waiting patiently and looking out the window until she hears someone approaching.

 

“This is his tea and your water,” Uma clarifies.

 

“Thank you,” Evie says, picking up the glass before adding a sly, possibly suggestive, “I was getting pretty thirsty.”

 

And no, Uma can't make that shit up. Evie really just said that to her. _This_ is the game that they're playing, apparently, and this time Uma doesn’t plan on making a fool out of herself.

 

So she replies, “Well, that's what I'm here to help with.”

 

Evie hums in response, pleased that Uma has caught on, and it almost looks like she’s going to say something else when Carlos finally comes back from the bathroom. He sits down and thus ends the fun before it has even truly begun, but Uma supposes that’s for the best.

 

Everything else goes smoothly for another hour or so, perfectly normal, suspiciously normal— no more flirting from Evie, and Uma continues to do the job she’s paid to do here. That is until Uma goes to collect their bill after they've left, knowing that Evie had paid for both hers and Carlos’ meals with card. She left her signature at the bottom of the receipt— to be expected— along with a $20 tip— extremely unexpected— and a heart drawn next to it.

 

A heart.

 

Perhaps Uma stares at it for an unusual amount of time. She figures this because Gil sneaks up behind her and peers over her shoulder with curiosity to see what Uma has been looking at on the receipt, and gasps.

 

“Woah!” He points at Evie’s handwriting, and then, “That's a huge tip… Hey, is that why you wanted to wait on them?”

 

Uma doesn’t have the energy to explain why he’s wrong, so she lets him believe that for her own sake.

  


***

  


Saturday eventually rolls around and it's time for another one of those fancy art gallery events that Mal has been frequenting lately, especially ever since she met Ben and has worked on making actual connections with other human beings besides Uma. Whom, in fact, has decided once again to attend tonight despite never truly receiving an invitation. Formal wear was specified, but she's wearing her leather jacket again— at least with nicer pants this time around. It is an improvement, which Mal commented on as they were leaving the apartment.

 

They only got here a few moments ago, walking into the art gallery and it doesn’t take long for Ben to spot them since not too many people have come in yet. He has a smile on his face that greets them and is sporting a new blue suit jacket that, Uma thinks, reminds her vaguely of someone else. Despite him coming over with the intention of speaking to both Mal and Uma together, the way his eyes light up around Mal isn’t subtle by a long shot.

 

The situation with Ben is complicated, as nice as he is. This is Ben Florian they’re talking about— whose parents own nearly all of the art galleries, museums, and exhibits in Auradon. That’s a fuck ton of influence they have on the art community within and around the city, but luckily for everyone else the Florians are some of the kindest, sweetest people you’ll ever meet. ‘Donations’ and ‘community service’ might as well be legally attached to their name. Ben, too, must have inherited that same amicable trait from his parents along with everything else that makes him so charming, and... okay, let's get to the point: he’s also crushing big time on Mal.

 

Mal might like him too, as far as Uma can tell, but she knows that Mal is doing her absolute best to make sure no one figures that out— especially Ben. There are worries that plague Mal’s mind constantly, Uma knows this as her best friend of many years, and they have the potential to hold her back if dwelled upon too much. She worries that the time isn’t right. She worries that maybe she’ll hurt him, or she won’t end up being the person Ben wants her to be. (But what she doesn’t realize is that Ben doesn’t expect her to be anything, he likes her for whoever she is in that moment and would never expect her to change for him. He’d follow her to the end if she asked, and perhaps that is what will get him hurt some day.)

 

So... yeah, it’s complicated.

 

“Hey! Uma, I'm surprised to see you here. Art inspiration getting you good lately?” Ben says, and Uma almost laughs because _her_? Art? Inspiration? Yeah, that's a joke. She can barely be bothered to draw a tree.

 

“She insisted on coming,” Mal sighs. “I completely forgot to tell you.”

 

“No, no, the more the better. It's great to have you here, Uma. Oh! And…” Ben turns, points to another room nearby and finishes, “Mal, there are some people here who really want to meet you.”

 

“Me?” Mal frowns. She isn't used to this whole being recognized as an artist thing yet, especially not around here. The shock is evident in her tone of voice and Uma knows that those worries are creeping up on her again, trying to pull Mal back into the shell she’s so used to hiding in.

 

“Yeah you, dumbass,” Uma chuckles. It’s a light hearted jab that goes along with the way she elbows Mal in encouragement. “Go with Ben. I'll just walk around and hopefully not get thrown out for being underdressed.”

 

One second of Uma making fun of her is all it takes for Mal to visibly relax a bit, shoulders less tense for the moment, and she nods. Mal and Ben disappear into the next showcase room and Uma silently wishes her luck, knowing the extent of Mal's socializing capabilities (or lackthereof).

 

For a while Uma aimlessly wanders around as she admires some of the works on display. There are plenty of intriguing sculptures, paintings, and photographs all decorating the hall— but really she's searching for one thing. Or person.

 

The art is fascinating to look at though, don’t get her wrong. In fact, Uma sees a painting of the ocean that she really likes while passing by; she’s always held a strong love for the ocean in her heart, despite never quite living anywhere with a lot of beaches. Something about it draws her in like she’s _meant_ to be there. But that’s a little weird to think about, huh?

 

Eventually she finds the person in question, easy to locate among the crowd thanks to the new dress she’s unveiled tonight with a stellar design; long and flowing in the back with one strap over her left shoulder—but it's still that signature royal blue that Evie Grimhilde favors so much.

 

Currently occupied in a conversation with some older women, Uma patiently waits for her chance to grab Evie's attention before anyone else can. Mal hadn’t been wrong when she mentioned how popular Evie was that first night, as it seemed someone was always trying to get ahold of her. When the women walk away with chummy farewells and Evie turns to the sculpture next to her to examine it more thoroughly, Uma seizes the moment and slides up beside her.

 

“It's nice, isn't it?” Uma states, and she has to hold it together when Evie jumps a little bit at the sudden presence beside her. She relaxes only when she realizes who it is. “I think I could do better, though.”

 

“Mm, is that so? Are you an artist?” Evie questions with a curious tone. It’s obvious that she knows the answer to that simply by observing how Uma acts and presents herself at events like these, but Uma appreciates that she is willing to play along. That’s what gives her the confidence to speak next.

 

“No, but I hear I'm good with my hands.”

 

Evie giggles— no, _snorts—_  as she shakes her head at the comment. The smile on Uma’s face is oddly unrestrained once she hears that sound, because okay, that was pretty cute and Evie looks embarrassed that she even let it see the light of day.

 

“You're right, though. It's beautiful,” Evie says, “I'm not sure what it means, though.”

 

The sculpture looks more like a tall, messy blob than anything else. Maroon or burgundy in color from top to bottom and just confusing overall, it kind of gives Uma anxiety to look at with all of its wild edges and loops. There is something captivating about it, though, which is probably due to all of the directions your eyes can follow.

 

“Isn't that what makes it so interesting? When you can't understand it?” Uma remarks. The statement might be the most intelligent and artistic thing she’s said all night, and she’s actually pretty proud of it.

 

Evie looks at her, a shine in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says quietly, almost as if she knows something that Uma doesn’t. Then she continues, “So... I can't say I was expecting you to be at another one of these. Did something spark your interest?”

 

“You could say that.”

 

“Maybe next time we can get you a more formal jacket.”

 

Uma scoffs at that, pretending to be offended by the totally reasonable suggestion. “What’s wrong with this one? Not meeting your standards, princess?” The ‘princess’ is to jab at how royal she looks all the time in her extravagant dresses— but the longer that word lingers in the air the more Uma feels like she just sealed her fate.

 

Evie turns to face her and gently places a hand on one of Uma’s jacket collars to feel and examine the leather material between her fingers. “While it _does_ look good on you...” her eyes turn back up to meet Uma’s, “it lacks effort. Try something new to impress me next time.”

 

And with a wink, Evie walks away.

 

There’s a lot to take in there, really. The wink. The very obvious flirting exchange. Her selection of the words _next time_. The feeling of excitement burning through Uma’s veins.

 

It dawns on Uma that she has dug herself into a very deep, inescapable hole and while that would normally be a problem, she’s looking forward to the next time she gets to see Evie Grimhilde.

  


**

  


There’s no way Evie Grimhilde was actually flirting with her last night. Uma must have dreamt that up. Or maybe she didn’t, and Uma has been out of the dating scene for so long that she’s freaking out about this. You can’t prove that it’s the latter.

 

Regardless, it’s all that she thinks about during her shift at work. Mainly she wonders what her next move will be, if she even makes a move at all, and how Evie might respond to continued flirting. It could be fun, like a game. The ball is in her court and all she has to do is figure out what to do with it. Once again she can feel that excitement buzzing throughout her body, so familiar yet so foreign.

 

It’s almost time for her to clock out and head back to the apartment so she can study for an exam coming up next week (because, yes, unfortunately school is still important). The big clock hand is just hitting the 9 which means she only has 15 minutes left at work when a customer walks in. A familiar customer with a face full of freckles.

 

“Hey,” Carlos greets her. “Would it be possible for me to order a platter to go? I’m kind of in a rush.”

 

Can they do that? Yes. Does it make sense? No. They’re not exactly a fast food restaurant or anything, especially with the lazy waiting staff that works here— her not included, of course. Uma gives him a questioning look as she responds with, “Uh, sure. You know there’s a McDonald’s down the street that would probably be faster, right?”

 

Carlos laughs. “Yeah, but I’m a big fan of seafood. And this place has really good shrimp.”

 

She can’t really argue with that, so Uma brings his order to the back and tells them to prioritize it. What are they gonna do, fire her? Her mother owns this place. (Let’s hope nobody says anything.) The cooks grumble something under their breath as she walks away and Uma nearly turns back around to make a comment about it, but knows that Carlos is still waiting out front. They’re lucky— just this time though.

 

Upon returning to a patient Carlos texting someone on his phone in the meantime, Uma lacks any hesitation when she asks, “Carlos, right?”

 

“Yep. You must be Uma,” Carlos beams, before realizing that it might seem weird that he’s too familiar with who she is. “I mean, not that I read it from your nametag— I did that too— but you’re the girl Evie was talking about.”

 

Well, that’s interesting, isn’t it?

 

“Talking about me?”

 

His face turns a bit red out of embarrassment, most likely because he just revealed a piece of information that he wasn’t supposed to. “Yeah but uh… don’t tell her I said that.”

 

Uma would promise not to, but she’d rather not lie to his face today. It’s almost adorable that Evie would trust this boy to keep a secret, because despite the fact that Uma has only known him for a few minutes total, she can tell he isn’t the type that’s good with those. Maybe he’d get along well with Jay. She makes a mental note to introduce them sometime.

 

Once his shrimp platter is done being prepared, Uma brings it out to Carlos and takes his payment.

 

“Tell Evie I said hey!” Uma calls out to Carlos as he’s leaving. The grin on her face is unmistakably smug, a stark contrast to how the boy sighs in shame.

  


***

  


A few weeks pass as Uma awaits her next opportunity, her next chance to see Evie Grimhilde anywhere _other_ than on social media, which just so happens to arrive when Mal is in the middle of kicking Jay’s ass at a game of Super Smash Bros.

 

Uma is on her phone scrolling through Instagram (sprawled across the couch like it’s nobody’s business— which it isn’t, because technically she’s the one who paid for this couch and everyone else can sit on the floor for all she cares) when she notices a new post from Evie, advertising a local fashion show only 30 minutes away from their apartment set for that upcoming Friday.

 

“Hey Mal, you going to this fashion thing on Friday?” Uma asks, not caring for whatever it is the two idiots are doing in their game. She knows Mal is winning, she almost always does against Jay, so there’s no need to watch. There's only one person who has ever even come close to beating her in Smash, and that's Harry— but only when he plays Bayonetta. Someday Uma might snap and try playing it herself just so she can kick Mal’s ass and piss her off. Unfortunately, that’s not today.

 

Mal doesn’t even glance up from the Nintendo Switch screen as she’s mashing buttons. “Wasn’t planning on it. Why?”

 

“We should go. There’s free food.”

 

“Shit!” Jay shouts, which can only mean that the match is over with a very predictable outcome. (Not that she called it. But she called it.) Then he puts the controller down and runs a hand through his hair, asking, “Can I come?”

 

“Woah, woah,” Mal interjects from her spot on the carpet. The look she gives Uma is clearly out of suspicion, unsure of what Uma’s motives could be with a suggestion like that. “Since when have you been interested in _fashion_? You wear the same shirt like three times a week.”

 

“Okay, and?” She counters sharply. Then with a shrug, Uma says. “I’m not, trust me. I just think it’d be fun to crash.”

 

The Smash announcer tells the players to pick their characters again for a new game, although Jay seems exhausted from playing and losing for the past hour and a half. There’s only so much loss one man can take, so he exits the game and starts to shut off the console. Mal puts the controller she’d been using down on her lap to lean back against the couch, stretching and yawning.

 

She doesn’t seem too thrilled about it, but Mal finally says, “Fine, whatever. But you’re driving if we go.”

 

And that’s good enough for Uma.

  


***

  


The faint beat of a generic dance song that Uma couldn’t be bothered to care for is nearly drowned out by all of the room’s chatter. Auradon’s best designers, fashionistas, models, fashion bloggers, have gathered— or, well, that entire list of people _plus_ Mal and Uma— for this show, and to be honest Uma isn’t really sure why. It’s just overcrowded, the music sucks, all they have for guests until the show starts is water and _cheese_ , and don’t even get her started on how little entertainment there is. Everyone attending is probably rich or aspiring to be rich, with their designer outfits and unnecessary handbags that prove how questionable their taste is.

 

Seriously. They’re ugly anyway.

 

Honestly, Uma knew Auradon had its fair share of rich people considering it’s a pretty high income city, but she didn’t know there were this many. They all talk to and know each other, networking and discussing their next ventures.

 

Mal is eating a slice of cheese that she got for free from one of the “food” tables (what a joke) and Uma is sipping from a cup of lemonade as they sit in foldable chairs, which goes to show all of the excitement they’ve been experiencing tonight. Not a lot. They’ve been here for roughly thirty minutes and the show hasn’t even started, nor has Uma seen Evie even once. You know, the whole reason she showed up.

 

“I’m starting to think I should’ve just stayed home,” Mal mumbles. The slice of cheese must have been dissatisfactory, because she just drops it back onto the paper plate in her hand with a sad _thud_. “Why did I agree to come with you again?”

 

“Because you love me.”

 

“That’s questionable.”

 

To their relief, the actual fashion show doesn’t take much longer to begin and Uma finds herself pleasantly surprised at how interested she is in what’s going on. Whoever chose the music should still be fired for someone who knows something other than European club music, but if there are any other major flaws she can’t pick any out. Watching models come down the runway in such unique individual outfits keeps you on your toes and makes you wonder _shit, what could possibly top that?_

 

Uma isn’t exactly sure which ones were designed by Evie, but every now and then she likes to think she can spot out a design that looks like Evie’s style. It’s all in the way she adds details to dresses and suit jackets, although the color selection is what really stands out as Evie. Blues, reds, yellows, purples, greens; she isn’t afraid to put out something different.

 

And maybe, Uma thinks, that’s why she’s so drawn to the girl.

 

It doesn’t last too long, the show ending after a little less than an hour, followed by more socializing. Something both Mal and Uma are getting pretty sick of. They’re about to leave, fed up with Auradon’s rich people and ready to take a nap at home, when Uma spots Evie across the room finally, chatting with a group of people holding wine glasses. All of them laugh at something that was said and Uma highly doubts it was that funny, but Evie laughs along with them.

 

“Let’s go,” Mal yawns. Her eyes are set on the exit, unaware of what Uma’s goal of the night had been, and she doesn’t realize that Uma isn’t even paying attention to her.

 

Instead, Uma’s eyes stay locked on Evie as she dismisses Mal with a, “Yeah, yeah, hold on a second.” Without much interest in whether Mal is following her or not, Uma begins to shift her way around a few crowds in her path and doesn’t care if she accidentally shoves a person or two. (Mal is following, though a tad reluctant, because she’s curious as to what’s gotten Uma’s attention all of a sudden.)

 

“Thank you very much,” Evie is saying to an older man before her. If there’s anything certain, it’s that Evie handles everything with grace. Her smiles are so genuine and kind that they practically serve as a magnet or some kind of gravity— her smiles pull you in closer with the desire to get to know the well-dressed mystery behind them even further. In the middle of her chat, Evie’s brown eyes bounce over to Uma for a split second as she notices her squeezing around through the crowd. She offers a polite smile then to the socialites surrounding her and adds, “Excuse me for a moment.”

 

Then in a matter of seconds Uma finds herself face to face with the girl she’d been searching for all night. And… somehow, she realizes, she never prepared herself for this moment. Evie seems surprised to see her however, which means maybe they’re on the same page together.

 

“Great stuff tonight, princess. Didn’t realize you were the one hogging all of the talent in Auradon,” Uma finds herself saying. A smirk grows on her face when Evie fights back an amused laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe share some with the rest of us?”

 

“That’s very sweet of you. Though, I’m starting to worry that you might be stalking me now,” Evie says, but it’s with a teasing inflection that informs Uma that she isn’t being serious. This is how they’ve been from the moment they met: dancing around each other, playing around with words that have implications far deeper than that of the surface. When Evie’s eyebrows furrow and an exaggerated frown makes its way across her lips, the girl says, “And I’m concerned that this leather jacket is the only thing you have in your closet.”

 

That gets a chuckle out of Uma. “Sorry, was there a dress code for this? Must have missed it.”

 

“You seem to miss all of them.”

 

“It gives me my charm,” Uma replies matter-of-factly. Which reminds her... “That’s probably why you talk about me to your friend Carlos all the time.”

 

“Oh is _that_ what he told you? Maybe I should have a word with him,” Evie counters. It amazes Uma how the back and forth banter is so easy and natural, almost like it is with Mal (which says something) except with a _lot_ more tension between them that may or may not imply _I really want to make out with you._ And Uma is having the time of her life doing it.

 

That’s when Evie realizes that, for an unknown amount of time, Mal has been standing behind Uma watching the whole exchange with a look of bewilderment.

 

“Mal, it’s great to see you! I hear you’re working on a new series of paintings,” Evie says, expressing her words with admiration like the first night that they spoke. She hadn’t been lying when she mentioned that she was a fan of Mal’s work, but it’d been so out of the blue that Mal was still trying to come to terms with it. “I’m so excited to see what you come up with.”

 

“Thanks,” Mal murmurs. Her eyes dart between Uma and Evie, but she doesn’t make any particular comments about the two of them. Or whatever she just witnessed. Because, really, what the hell was that? “You’ll, uh... have an invite to the next showcase.”

 

Evie nods, her hands clasping together in excitement. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” she says, before turning to Uma again and meeting her eyes. “Thank you guys for coming, but I really need to get back to my other conversation. I’ll see you around?”

 

The beginning of that statement was clearly to the both of them, and Uma might be going crazy, but she’s pretty sure that the ‘see you around’ question was more directed at her.

 

“Obviously,” Uma remarks. It’s the response Evie must have wanted to hear, because she grins and pivots to return to the conversation she left a few moments ago. Once she’s gone and leaves nothing behind but the rapid beating of Uma’s heart in her chest, Uma starts for the nearest exit. There’s nothing else for her to do here. “Let’s go, I’m tired.”

 

Mal is… kind of stunned at what she just watched, to say the least, but doesn’t say anything about it as they leave the building. Even as they drive the thirty minutes home blasting one of their favorite albums, Mal chooses to let it go without questioning. It was odd to see Uma talking so casually with Evie Grimhilde, sure. But it’s none of her business and what Uma does in her free time doesn’t concern Mal.

 

Yet, at least.

  


***

  


It’s a Wednesday morning and Uma is miserable, having stayed up until 3AM the previous night watching a movie with Jay and Mal fully aware that she had a 10AM class that next day with a 20 minute commute. On the bright side, the movie they watched was _Into the Spiderverse_ and there is possibly no better movie in existence to lose sleep over. Uma leaves a few minutes earlier that morning to grab some coffee at a nearby cafe on her way to class, since caffeine is going to be the only thing keeping her alive today.

 

She doesn’t expect to coincidentally run into Ben there while waiting in line, but he smiles when he sees her after picking up his drink from the barista. He invites Uma to sit down with him for a while— not for long, because they both have places to be— and Uma can’t find it in her to say no. Conversing with Ben is actually pretty nice sometimes, and she does have the time to spare.

 

“I hear you guys went to that fashion show the other day. How was it?” Ben asks her once she’s seated across from him at their wobbly table. It was the only one available, for obvious reasons.

 

“Can’t say it was the most thrilling thing I’ve ever seen, Ben. Cannot say it.” Uma shakes her head, recalling how she’d nearly fallen asleep while waiting for the fashion show to begin several times. Not just once. Several. Despite how much he can’t relate, Ben laughs at her words. He’s always been one to appreciate her sense of humor, and she can approve of a guy with good taste. (That’s a trait that they both share.) Uma’s mind wanders briefly and she thinks of Evie at the fashion show, then Ben’s familiarity with the general Auradon population, so she asks, “What do you know about Evie?”

 

Ben brightens at the mentioning of her name and Uma knows that she asked the right person. “Evie is great,” he says, “I’ve always been a fan of her designs and I’m not really one for fashion. She’s done a few custom suits for me before and they’ve come out great. Have you spoken to her?”

 

“Yeah, actually. A few times.” Uma considers not telling him the full story for a moment. To omit or not omit valuable details about how Uma has been flirting with Evie Grimhilde and going out on a limb just to run into her at events. That might make her sound too ridiculous, so she picks a safe middleground. “Look, don’t tell Mal, but Evie is the reason I even went to that boring show.”

 

“Don’t worry, I get it,” Ben assures her. It sounds like he really does, somehow, and Uma chocks that up to his refined skill of being able to read people. Being raised in a setting that requires meeting strangers and communicating with others must require a high level of charisma and the ability to catch social cues. If Ben can read her as well as she thinks he can, Uma can’t hide much from him. A part of her wonders if he understands Mal nearly as well, but if she’s being honest, she doesn’t think so. Then Ben hesitates, mouth parting to speak but waiting for a moment, before eventually deciding to throw his question out in the open. “Are you planning on asking her out on a date?”

 

Uma shrugs. She wants to, of course— and yet she hasn’t. “Who knows. I’m still trying to figure that out.” Not that it’s uncommon for Uma to be indecisive, and Ben is well aware of the fact that she simply does what she pleases most of the time with little planning. He nods, then takes a sip of his tea.

 

“Well, I think it’d be a good idea.”

 

They fall into a silence but a comfortable one, as it always is with Ben. He doesn’t push for an extended conversation, and that’s something Uma and Mal both appreciate very much. The amount of times Uma has wanted to jump off the face of the earth because of awkward small talk is a number probably in the hundreds. That doesn’t mean she’s run out of things to say, though.

 

“How are things with Mal?” She asks. And since Uma is a decent person she pretends to not notice how Ben’s face of content quickly turns into a worried frown, nor does she comment on it.

 

“Good, I think. It’s hard to figure out what’s going on with her...” he pauses and thinks for a moment, “...but that’s alright. I can give her time, if that’s what she needs.”

 

“Yeah, Mal is confusing. Even I don’t understand her sometimes.” Uma considers how long she’s known Mal— which is a long time— and how much they’ve seen each other grow. Back in middle school the two of them had very similar coping methods, meaning they got into way too many fights with other people in the parking lot after school. That’s who they were and what they did together as two very lost and confused girls who didn’t really know how to face their problems. Over time they stopped doing that, of course, despite how much Uma misses the idea of throwing hands over dirty looks or silly rumors in an empty parking lot. But Mal has always been a confusing one no matter how many years go by, or rather she’s still confused with herself. Unsure of who she is and what she wants. She runs from her problems instead of taking them head on and, as a positive change, no longer uses her fists to solve conflict. “She might take forever, but she’ll figure out what she wants eventually and she’ll let you know. That’s just how she is.”

 

“I know,” Ben says quietly. He glances at his watch to note the time and realizes that both of them should get going soon if they’re going to be punctual with their obligations. As he stands up from his seat and starts to gather his belongings, Ben offers a smile. “Hey, thanks for sitting down with me.”

 

Uma gets up too, grabbing her jacket so she can slip it on and go. “Yeah, well, it was either you or sitting alone in my car for ten minutes,” she responds. It’s a friendly joke, one that Ben doesn’t get offended by and instead chuckles at. When she’s about ready to leave, Uma shoves a hand in her jacket pocket and pulls out her phone to check for notifications before Ben’s voice halts her.

 

“Wait, I almost forgot—” Ben grins in a boyish, excited way. “My dad wants to have a fundraiser at one of our galleries this Sunday if you’re interested in coming. I’m sure Evie will be there, if that’s any incentive.”

 

Telling Ben about her interest in Evie might have more benefits than intended. Uma thinks the proposition over briefly, but there’s not really a single doubt in her mind.

 

“Sure. Yeah. I’m in.”

  


***

  


Something is playing on the TV— probably a low budget crime show, Uma thinks— as Mal and Uma are chilling on the couch together, although neither of them are actually paying attention to it. They’re looking at and scrolling through various apps on their phones and kind of just… existing near each other rather than interacting, which is a common practice for them. It’s part of the reason they’re such good roommates and best friends of many years. You’d think they’d be able to read each other’s minds by now with how well they know each other, but being able to understand each other with little to no verbal communication is close enough.

 

And since this shared silence has been ongoing for the past 45 minutes of not-really-watching TV, it startles Uma when Mal speaks up.

 

“Hey, Uma?”

 

Uma glances up from the post she was reading on her phone, but Mal isn’t looking back. She’s just gazing at the TV screen instead even though she doesn’t really care about the show itself, a look in her eyes that’s unusual enough to concern Uma. This is what happens when something is bothering Mal, and that means Uma has to mentally prepare herself for whatever is coming next.

 

“What’s up?” She asks, and with little hesitation turns her phone off and tosses it aside.

 

It takes a minute for a response, like Mal hadn’t been sure where she was going to go with this in the first place. “Ben invited me to go to some award ceremony with him and Carlos, but…”

 

Dots finally connect.

 

“Wait,” Uma blurts, “Ben knows Carlos?”

 

Mal gives her a weird look at that, a small victory since it tears her gaze away from the TV, since Uma never thought to mention any of her encounters with Carlos in recent conversations. How was she supposed to know? “Uh yeah… how do _you_ know Carlos?”

 

“Uh, Instagram stalking,” Uma quickly makes up. “Continue.”

 

A sigh. “I’m afraid Ben is gonna get the wrong idea, you know?” Mal says. The words are careful, because even if they’re best friends they still struggle with opening up to each other. Having emotional conversations and being comfortable with intimacy are both things they haven’t quite mastered yet, but it’s a road they’ve been travelling down together. “Not that I don’t like him, because I do, but like… I don’t want to date anyone. Not right now.”

 

This is the first time Mal has ever said anything about her feelings for Ben despite the fact that they’ve discussed Ben’s feelings for _her_ in the past, and it doesn’t come as a shock to Uma. She saw this coming a mile away, from the first time she saw Ben and Mal talking to each other. They’re cute, Uma can admit that, but they could be a ticking time bomb together if they’re not ready. And as Mal’s best friend, it’s Uma’s job to make sure that doesn’t happen.

 

“Mal, I know this might come as a surprise to you, but the solution is to just talk to him,” she suggests with a raised eyebrow. Simple advice, yes, and it’s still something Mal needs to hear every now and then. “If you don’t do what you need to do now, it’ll just fuck with you in the long run. You know that.”

 

“Yeah, says you,” Mal laughs softly. There’s some sadness behind the sound, too, even if she’s trying to mess around.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“I’m not blind, dipshit. You’re the one who’s been too afraid to make a move on Evie Grimhilde.”

 

Now _that_ is a statement that catches Uma off guard. She blinks for a moment, tempted briefly to throw a couch pillow at Mal’s face.

 

“I am not afraid,” Uma scoffs.

 

“You are.”

 

“Definitely not.”

 

“Uma,” Mal says. Her voice is steadier, more firm, confident in that she knows her best friend more than she knows herself. With just a hint of sarcasm, Mal continues to lecture her with, “I know you. Make a move already before you make a fool out of yourself. I can’t be seen associating with you if you do, just so you know.”

 

She makes a good point, as if Uma hasn’t been yelling at herself to do the same thing for the past few weeks. The key is to actually make a move and go for what you want, right? And that’s always been what Uma excels at— getting what she wants and using ambition to her advantage. Yet Evie Grimhilde has her running in circles rather than standing her ground.

 

“Shut up,” Uma murmurs. It’s her turn to look away, staring at the carpet instead of looking at Mal directly. She has to laugh a little, too. “I guess we both have problems.”

 

The credits begin to roll on the low budget crime show that’s been airing this entire time, and it occurs to both of them that they missed absolutely everything. Mal doesn’t seem too bothered, shrugging, “Yeah, I think that’s why we get along so well.”

 

“Good point.”

  


***

  


The fundraiser.

 

It’s a pretty big event, yet exactly the same as everything else Uma has gone to. Lots of rich people and art enthusiasts, some local media. Even a few politicians are making an appearance asking for campaign contributions, as if anyone here cares. All donations or money spent on purchasing art pieces tonight goes to a local art organization, courtesy of the Florians. There’s a live band, plenty of free refreshments, and to Uma’s satisfaction no dress code.

 

By the time Uma and Mal have arrived, everything is pretty much in full swing; people are enjoying themselves and socializing while the music choices here are much better than that of the fashion show they’d gone to.

 

“Wanna go find Ben?” Uma suggests, considering he’s the only person the two of them would recognize. She squeezes between a few bodies to make her way through the front room and away from the masses of strangers. The less people surrounding her in close quarters, the more comfortable she is.

 

“Yeah. Sure.” Mal’s response is brief and unusual, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that she’s being more weird than usual. Her behavior isn’t something that needs to be addressed right now, but Uma notes that she should probably bring it up later.

 

A lot of the faces at these events are starting to become familiar now that Uma has been frequenting them more often. There’s a dude that— for lack of better descriptors— looks a lot like Eggman from the Sonic video games, and a few people that Uma is sure she’s seen at the community college, too, which means they must be art students. And while she can admit that many pretty faces fill the room, it’s lacking the presence of Evie Grimhilde.

 

Eventually, they locate Ben and his parents talking with some men in suits. Ben, who doesn’t seem particularly excited to be involved in that conversation to begin with, sees the girls as they approach and waves them over.

 

“You go, I need to piss,” Uma says.

 

“What?” Mal responds, as if she hadn’t actually been listening and was too busy lost in her own head. She seems to snap out of it, not entirely, but enough to feign being annoyed. The words come out more nervous than anything when she mumbles out a, “Just hurry up.”

 

This will definitely be addressed later— because Uma knows damn well that trying to get Mal to open up is a long process, and doing all of that at a public fundraiser would cause a scene. The last thing she needs is for some crusty old rich people to listen in on their personal business, so Uma doesn’t mention anything about Mal’s odd behavior and instead leaves to find the bathroom.

 

There’s only one other occupied stall when she gets there, which may be a stroke of good luck considering how many people are being packed into the outside rooms like sardines. She does what she came here to do and is, really, just staying in her own lane this time simply using the bathroom, but when Uma opens the stall door to wash her hands at the sink she finds Evie Grimhilde fixing up her makeup in the mirror.

 

“I’d say I’m surprised to see you here, but I’m really not,” Uma shrugs. Evie puts her lipstick back into the expensive-looking bag hanging off her shoulder, not at all surprised either.

 

“Is crashing events in Auradon something you do _every_ weekend?” Evie asks, watching as Uma walks over to the sink and runs her hands under some warm water. A brief chuckle escapes the girl, maybe at the idea of _resident Auradon event crasher_ being her new reputation.

 

“Hey, I actually had an invite to this one, princess,” Uma says. The nickname slips out again with little warning and barely any forethought, but hopefully it can be buried under more banter. (Evie catches it, of course. It surprises her that she doesn’t mind being called princess; if anyone else had said it, they would have faced far more consequences. Uma, however…) “Ben invited me himself, you know.”

 

“You must be a special guest then.”

 

Uma turns to fully face Evie, a bold move. “Yeah, I’m kind of a big deal.”

 

And, yes, Uma discovers that she’s feeling extra confident tonight, but _damn_ she can hardly take her eyes off of Evie’s lips. The dark red lipstick just screams _look at me!_ and Uma is hoping that Evie doesn’t notice just yet (she does), because maybe this is the reaction that Evie was looking for (it is). Regardless of whether she’s reaching or not, that’s what Uma chooses to believe.

 

“Ugh, this jacket again,” Evie groans, both hands coming to gently grab Uma’s collars. She’s ignored what they were talking about previously, and in a poorly veiled cover of complaining about the jacket finds an excuse to touch Uma. Their bodies are much closer than they were before, that’s for sure, and Uma is now hyper aware of how empty her hands are. “If you’re going to torture me, at least let me make you a new one for the future.”

 

That’s when a wave of confidence surges through Uma. A new flame lights within her chest sent directly from god Herself to help her in this moment, and Uma says, “I think there’s something better you could do.”

 

“Hm?” Evie tilts her head, though her hands are still fiddling with the buttons on Uma’s leather jacket. Uma raises a challenging eyebrow.

 

“Kiss me.”

 

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask,” Evie whispers. Their eyes meet for only a split second before Evie closes her own and, considering she’s a few inches taller than Uma especially wearing heels, she has to lean down a bit to meet Uma’s lips with her own.

 

Her lips are soft, Uma thinks, and so are her hands as they cup the sides of Uma’s face to tilt her head upwards for easier access. What starts as a soft kiss quickly turns into something more than that when Uma puts her hands on Evie’s waist to tug her even closer; Evie kisses harder and Uma does her best to keep up with how their lips move against each other. One kiss turns into many repetitive, deeper kisses as they continue to get lost in each other— almost as if everything has been building up to this moment and they’ve waited long enough. Evie’s breath is hot against her lips as they pull apart and then reconnect, over and over, slightly rushed and heated.

 

Uma would apologize for how rough her grip on Evie’s waist is but she isn’t sorry, not when Evie bites at her lip like that and—

 

Suddenly the band stops playing outside and the sound of Adam’s voice, Ben’s dad, is amplified by a microphone as he begins to welcome everyone who has decided to attend the event tonight. That’s Evie’s cue to pull away (albeit reluctantly), out of breath and holding Uma by her jacket collar tightly.

 

“We should go.”

 

Uma nods. “Yeah, think so.”

 

Evie glances into the mirror and frowns at the way her lipstick is now smudged after _just_ fixing it, so she grabs a paper towel and wipes at it until it looks presentable. Not perfect, but it’ll do. Uma also does her best to not look like she just had a makeout session in the bathroom, as if anyone would even care, and fixes the way her leather jacket rests on her shoulders.

 

After they’re done fixing themselves up to look presentable again, Evie whips out one of her business cards, a pen, scribbles a heart next to her phone number and places it in Uma’s open palm.

 

“Call me,” is what she says.

 

Then Evie exits the bathroom, right as an elderly woman enters. (How did they not get caught making out in a public bathroom? Seriously, that’s some luck.) Uma stares at the card in her hand with a giant grin now on her face that Mal would absolutely make fun of her for if she were here.

 

The game of flirting and dancing around each other is finally over, and she considers herself a winner.

 

Once that whole bathroom ordeal is over, the remainder of the event goes without a hitch. Ben’s family raises a massive amount of money and they seem proud of it, as they should be; if Uma wasn’t a college student working part-time at her mother’s restaurant, maybe she would have donated something too. That isn’t very in character of her, though, and she blames the fact that she’s still reeling over her make out session with Evie. Her brain has yet to balance itself out again.

 

An hour or two goes by until Uma and Mal decide to head back to their apartment. Something still seems off about Mal and she continues to space out more than usual, which is weird. Like, weird for Mal. Mal is always weird, but she’s being extra quiet and looks deep in thought tonight.

 

They barely step foot into their apartment, still taking their shoes off by the front door, when Uma asks, “You good?”

 

“Perfectly fine.”

 

“You’re a shitty liar and you know it,” Uma rolls her eyes. Knowing her best friend, Mal is going to make a run for her room and just lock herself in there for a day being emo or whatever and Uma _refuses_ to let that happen if something is wrong. Besides, Uma has been on a lucky streak today. Mal, on the other hand, refuses to look at her as she throws her purple jacket on a coat hanger.

 

“Really, Uma, it’s fine.”

 

“Come on. Just tell me, Mal,” Uma waits. A thought occurs to her. “Or else I’ll play those ocean and nature sounds to help me go to sleep tonight that you hate so much. I don’t know why you hate it, I mean, I just think it’s so peaceful to hear whale noises at the loudest volume possible and—”

 

“Fine!” Mal shouts, but pauses immediately after. She looks lost in her own thoughts again, trying to sort everything out, to make sense of it all to herself before she can make it make sense to Uma. “Ben wanted to talk tonight. He asked if I was ready for a relationship,” she continues. The nerves are getting to her, evident by how she bites her bottom lip a bit too hard. “I said no.”

 

Uma takes a minute to process whatever that means. For Mal, for Ben, and for her. “How’d he react?”

 

“It’s Ben. He said he understands, what else would he say?” Mal sighs. “He’s too good, Uma. I’ve already hurt him, I can’t keep putting him through that.”

 

“ _That_ meaning _you_. Mal, he’s a grown ass man and he knows what he’s getting into,” Uma reminds her, but she knows that there’s more to the story than what she’s been told. Even though Mal’s green eyes are concentrated elsewhere, Uma tries to look her dead in the eye. “This isn’t just about him, this is about you too.”

 

And, with her godsent luck coming through again, Mal finally looks at her. There are unshed tears in her eyes that are being fought back by nothing but pure willpower, something Uma has only seen from Mal a handful of times throughout the years they’ve known each other. It’s as if the answers are stuck in Mal’s throat, lodged in there and afraid to come out, but she finally gets them out with a quiet, “I’m not ready. I just don’t feel ready, you know?”

 

“Then I think you did the right thing,” Uma says. “That’s a first for you.”

 

The comment gets Mal to laugh, even if it’s just a short, sad chuckle. “I don’t know. I need to think about it some more,” Mal says back. She remains quiet for a minute, then checks the time on her phone. It occurs to Uma that they’re still standing by the front door of their apartment and haven’t even gotten a chance to relax. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

 

Uma starts to take off her own jacket and offers a lighthearted, “Night, idiot.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Both of them go to their respective rooms and as soon as the door shuts behind her, Uma flops onto the welcoming comfort of her bed. Theoretically she should change into her pajamas and prepare for sleep, but there are more pressing matters at hand. She reaches into one of her pockets and pulls out the business card Evie had given her, slightly crumpled now from being in there all night. Whether she should call Evie or not is the question; a glance at her wall clock reminds her that it’s well past midnight and suggests that the girl is probably trying to get some sleep.

 

But, you know, fuck it.

 

Her phone is out within seconds and she dials the number on the card, subconsciously holding her breath as she waits for the call to be answered. Not that she should expect an answer because it’s so late and...

 

It takes a while, but eventually Evie answers it.

 

“Hello?” She sounds tired, as if she’s been getting ready for bed after a long night but knows that she should answer her phone just in case it’s business related.

 

“What does the schedule of Auradon’s best fashion designer look like?”

 

Evie pauses for a moment, and Uma can only imagine what the girl’s face looks like after realizing who it is on the other end of the phone call.

 

“Hmm, that depends. What am I making time for?”

 

“I was thinking dinner,” Uma starts, “I hope you like seafood. I know a good restaurant.”

 

The laugh that comes from Evie is so light and genuine, a sound that Uma takes pride in being able to generate from her. If she could only hear that more often, she wouldn’t have any complaints.

 

“Is it the one that you work at by any chance?”

 

“I get a pretty nice employee discount.”

 

“Alright,” Evie says. “But only if you agree to be my date to an event next weekend.”

 

The thought of going to yet _another_ one of Auradon’s Rich People Fests isn’t the most thrilling idea on the planet. On the contrary, the idea of going to one as Evie’s date makes it a lot more interesting. But still, just to mess with her, Uma pretends to have a hard time thinking about the offer.

 

“I don’t know… Any dress codes?”

 

“Yes, and we’re _definitely_ going to work on your outfit choices.”

 

“I don’t know about all that, princess, but whatever you say. I’m down,” Uma concedes, though she had never seriously considered saying no in the first place. “You free this Thursday?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Good, I’ll pick you up at 8.”

 

“That’s very straightforward,” Evie notes. The smile on her face can be heard in the way she speaks. “I like the change.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. We made out in a bathroom today, it’s hard not to be,” Uma counters. Another laugh from Evie, this time more bashful than the previous, and Uma notices that there’s a smile on her own face too. “I’ll text you tomorrow?”

 

“I’d like that. Goodnight, Uma.”

 

The call ends. Uma welcomes the silence of her room for the next few moments and allows the day’s events to truly sink in, for her brain to process what legitimately happened— her brain didn’t make any of that up. In fact, it kind of feels a lot like a dream in some ways, as cheesy as that sounds. Her and Evie had that ongoing tension for, what? A couple of months? And now Uma has a date with her this Thursday, which is kind of unreal.

 

It is, though. It’s real.

 

So is what happened with Mal, and even though it sucks that she has to go through that right now, Uma is well aware of how strong Mal is. She’ll get through this just like she always has— and to be fair, it’s not like she has to do it alone. That’s what she has a best friend for. They’ve gone through hell and back together and that will likely never change; this is one conquerable roadblock of many, and Mal is going to be fine. Both of them will be, in fact.

  
And you know what? Maybe Uma _will_ try to learn how to play Smash just so she can try to kick Mal’s ass in it. Luck has been on her side lately.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me @harryumas on tumblr if you wanna talk! Thanks for reading, all feedback is welcome. <3


End file.
